Ten Minutes Equals a Lifetime
by Christine Ruud
Summary: How can you sum up a person's life in a ten minute speech, when there's so much more than that? Eva Pierce tries to make sense out of her father's life when she writes his eulogy.
1. One Funeral, Hold the Responsibilities

_**Chapter 1: One Funeral, Hold the Responsibilities**_

**1980**

Eva Pierce threw her pen down in disgust. Why was _she _the one chosen to give the eulogy at her father's funeral? She hated funerals. She hated writing. The only thing she didn't hate out of the whole mess was her father.

"How's it coming?" asked Erin Joeseph (formerly Erin Hunnicutt). She sat down next to the dark-haired woman.

"Horribly," Eva snapped, thrusting the paper at Erin.

" 'Benjamin Franklin Pierce lived from 1923 to 1980,' " Erin read. "Well, it's not a bad start."

Eva sighed and rubbed her forehead. "You liar, it's a terrible start. Erin, can't you help?"

The blonde shook her head. "I've told you no five times. You have to do this yourself. If I help you it won't be your own."

"Did you swallow a funeral advice booklet?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

Laying her head down on the table, Eva said, "If only Mom was here. She always knew how to say things. I remember when I had to write all the thank-you notes for my graduation she basically worded everything. Then Dad told her she was giving Emily Post a run for her money and she threw a cream puff at him."

The conversation was interrupted by Annette Winchester's entrance. The woman took the piece of paper from Erin's hands. "This is Hawkeye's eulogy?"

"Correction--was." Eva crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it across the long wood table. "Anyone want more coffee?"

"How can you think about caffeine at eleven at night?" asked Annette. She pulled her shiny red ringlets into a ponytail. "I'm as wired enough as it is."

"That's because you haven't worn off from your time difference," Eva told her.

"Do you even know what time it is in London?"

"A lot earlier than it is here...I think." Eva shook her head, as if to jerk her brain into a writing mode. "I'm going to go and see if everyone in the living room is all right."

She stood up and went through the kitchen into the living room. It was filled with her parents' friends from Korea--B.J. and Peg Hunnicutt, Charles and Lucille Winchester, Radar and Julie O'Reilly, Max Klinger and his children Lucas, Rena, and Marilyn, Father Francis Mulchay, and Trapper McIntyre and his daughters Becky and Kathy. Even Frank Burns and his wife Louise had come, along with their grandchildren Robby, Carolina, Adam, and Donna. Their daughters hadn't shown up because of weddings and a bar mitzvah.

"Does anyone need anything?" Eva asked.

There was a chorus of "no's" until Kathy's son Kevin spoke up.

"I want a cookie! NOW!" he howled.

"Someone's a little tired," Kathy said.

"It's all right, I'll get him one." Eva chuckled as she grabbed a few Oreos from the kitchen and tossed them to the very tired nine-year-old. "Anything else?"

"Perhaps you should get some sleep," suggested Father Mulchay. "You look quite tired."

"I think I will," Eva replied. "I'm really sorry about the lack of space here."

"We could go to a hotel," Peg offered.

"No," said Eva. "My father would have wanted you here. _I _want you here. If I have to stay in this house by myself...I just can't."

"We'll stay," Becky said.

Eva let a small smile spread across her lips. "I'm going to go upstairs, but call if you need me."

She trudged up the narrow staircase to her bedroom. Actually, her bedroom that was being shared with Annette and Erin for God-knows-how-long.

It was small but comfortable and had been Eva's home for the last nineteen years. Now that both of her parents were gone, she couldn't bear to sell the house but knew she had to. It was much too big and _way _too expensive to keep maintaining.

"Why is my life so damn hard?" Eva demanded to her reflection in the mirror. "I'm supposed to be going to college and dating three guys at once and saving up for the new platform sandals everyone has, not arranging funerals and settling wills and...and..."

She stood up and headed for her parents' room, thinking that maybe she could get a good night's sleep and get up at six to finish the eulogy.

Then she remembered.

Klinger, Marilyn, Rena, Lucas, Peg, and B.J. were sharing it for the night.

_You can't kick them out of their room_, Eva said to herself. _It's the biggest one in the whole house; you could fit almost everyone in it. _

_It's your house, _another voice inside her head argued.

_Yes, but you invited them._

_Why are they sleeping in your mom and dad's room anyway?_

_BECAUSE YOU ASKED THEM TO!_

_Don't you dare shout at me!_

_I CAN SHOUT IF I WANT TO! _

_Will you kindly shut up?_

_NO!_

Eva gripped her arms tightly, almost breaking the skin with her nails. She silenced both of the voices in her head and trotted downstairs.

"BUT I WANNA WATCH T.V.!" whined Kevin.

"Absolutely not," Kathy snapped.

"Come over here, buddy," Trapper said, "and Grandpa Trapper'll tell you a story about an evil ferret named Major Burns."

"I resent that!" said Frank.

"Big surprise."

Eva cleared her throat. "Everybody, I have a really big favor to ask."

The group looked up expectantly.

"Would you mind if I slept in Dad and Mom's room tonight?" asked Eva. "I hate to put you out but I-"

"Go ahead," said Klinger. "Hell, I spent three years on an Army cot, one night in a sleeping bag won't kill me."

"Thank you and good night." Eva went back up the stairs, dropping the smile from her face. She headed into Margaret and Hawkeye's bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

And for the first time in four days, she was able to cry.

**XXX**

_A/N: This is another one of my ideas that popped in from somewhere in deep space. The next chapter will start in 1960, when Hawkeye and Margaret get together. _


	2. Proposals & Reactions

_**Chapter 2: Proposals and Reactions**_

**1960**

"Hawkeye Pierce!" Margaret Houlihan screeched as she opened the door of her house in the Hudson Valley. "What are you doing here?"

Hawkeye grinned. "I was in the neighborhood."

"Come in, come in, you'll freeze." Margaret pulled the dark-haired man into the entryway.

"Nice place," said Hawkeye. "You buy or rent?"

"It was my great-aunt's," Margaret said. "She left it to me when she died."

"Were you close to her?"

"Hardly. I suppose the reason she left it to me is because I'm one of the only members of the family that wouldn't sell it or torch it." She hung up Hawkeye's coat and turned back to him. "Do you realize how much I've missed you?"

"I was just going to ask you the same thing." Hawkeye pulled the former Major into a hug. "Are you married?"

Margaret raised her eyebrows at the subject switch. "No."

"Engaged?"

"I was."

"What happened?"

"He called it off." Margaret drew back. "It was his sister that told me! His _sister_! It turns out if he would have married me, he wouldn't have gotten his inheritance because of my family's...history."

"History?" repeated Hawkeye. "What history?"

"My mother's family has a string of mental illness. His parents were afraid that if we had children, they would be kleptos or pyromaniacs or sit in a corner all day mumbling to themselves," Margaret said. "My ex-fiancee now lives in Utah, with a wife and three children, two of which shows signs of mental disorders."

"So you're unattached?"

"Yes."

Hawkeye took a deep breath. "Margaret...I didn't know this would be so hard, but just--just listen, all right?" he began. "I've been thinking about you ever since we left Korea. You don't know how many times I've wanted to call you and ask if you're all right. I was this close to making reservations for a plane out here at least ten times. But every time I did, I would think about what I would do if you were married, and I couldn't go through with it."

"I wish you would have," said Margaret. "All these months I've had to deal with Chuck and his idiotic family, I just wanted to have someone here that was on _my _side." She bit her lip. "Do you want to know something?"

"Sure."

"Out of all the 4077th, I've missed you the most."

Hawkeye laughed. "If you would have said that in 1951 I would never have believed it."

"But it's not," Margaret said. "And I want you to believe it."

The two embraced and slowly kissed. It was as if the seven years had evaporated and they hadn't been apart.

"Marry me," breathed Hawkeye.

"What?" Margaret cried. "Are you crazy? We can't get married, I haven't seen you for almost ten years!"

"Margaret, don't you get it? We both need each other! At least I know I do. Now come on. Haven't you missed your old annoyance?"

"Of course I have, but we haven't--I don't know. In a way I do but in a way I can't."

"Hotlips Houlihan not being able to make a decision?" Hawkeye marveled. "Let's mark the date on that one, folks."

"Very funny," said Margaret.

For the next ten seconds, the only sound that could be heard was the grandfather clock chiming and the autumn wind blowing outside.

"Look, I don't want to rush you but I double-parked my DeSoto out there," Hawkeye said.

Margaret's mouth was open, ready to refuse and tell him to go back to Crabapple Cove, when she stopped. _Why? Why should I refuse? _"Hawkeye, this is...this is..." She laughed. "Okay. Okay, I'll marry you."

The next kiss rivaled their parting one in '53.

"Pinch me," Hawkeye instructed.

"What?"

"Pinch me. I want to know if I'm dreaming."

Margaret gladly obliged.

"Nope, this isn't a dream," said Hawkeye.

"How do you know that?" Margaret asked.

"Because the Margaret in my dream wouldn't have pinched me there."

"Ooh, you pervert!" Margaret slapped him on his arm. She sighed. "What happens if we can't make this work?"

"We go our seperate ways," said Hawkeye."Margaret, even if it doesn't work, we'll have known we tried."

Margaret looked at Hawkeye carefully, trying to figure out if all of this was a joke that Trapper or B.J. put him up to. "I love you."

The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying.

But somehow, it felt right.

**XXX**

Hawkeye, who had been staying in one of Margaret's guest rooms, was shaving one morning when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" hollered Margaret. She flung open the door and was greeted by Father Mulchay, which was quite a common occurance. He lived a few miles from her and had been making sure that the 4077th's head nurse was doing all right. Much of his hearing had returned, but he wasstillpreaching to the deaf.

"Good morning, Margaret," the Father said.

Before Margaret had a chance to say anything, Hawkeye shouted, "Where's the damn aftershave, oh wife-to-be?"

Father Mulchay pushed past Margaret. "Was that Hawkeye Pierce?"

"Let me take your coat," said Margaret, avoiding the subject. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Waffles?"

"Margaret." Father Mulchay smiled knowingly. "I'd know that voice anywhere." His eyes widened and he blinked several times. "Did he say..."

Hawkeye came down the stairs in a red and black plaid robe. "Margaret, where's the..."

_Trailing off seems to be everyone's specialty today_, Margaret observed silently. She cleared her throat. "Father Mulchay, I would like to introduce you to my fiancee."

Father Mulchaytook a moment to digest the information and broke into a broad smile. "Congratulations!" He hugged them both. "I knew it! You two crazy galoots."

"Father," Hawkeye began, "how are you at performing weddings?"

"A little rusty. Not too many ten-year-olds get married, you know."

"I--_we _would be honored if you would perform our wedding ceremony," said Margaret.

"When would you like me to do it?" Father Mulchay asked.

"Today," said Hawkeye.

"Next week," Margaret told him. She turned to face Hawkeye. "Today? I don't have a dress or flowers or anything!"

"This entire marriage is spontaneous! Why shouldn't the service be?" Hawkeye asked. "We can get married today, go to Crabapple Cove, and introduce Dad to his new daughter-in-law."

Margaret considered it for a moment. Finally, she said, "How about a Presbyterian at five?"

**XXX**

The wedding was held at Father Mulchay's apartment. Margaret wore a tan peasant dress and Hawkeyehad on a brown suit. By six P.M. they were on their way to Maine. On the way, they stopped and made several phone calls.

**XXX**

"You got _what_?" Sherman Potter crowed into the phone. "Well, bust my buttons!"

**XXX**

"You and Hotlips? Hawk, are you drunk?" shouted Trapper John McIntyre.

**XXX**

"Wow! Congratulations sir...ma'am..uh, ma'am," Radar O'Reilly stammered.

**XXX**

"Well, Pierce, I must say that I'm not surprised," said Charles Emerson Winchester III. "We knew for ages that you and Margaret had something more...romantic than your average nurse/doctor relationship."

**XXX**

"Max, a phone call came when you were bowling," Soon-Lee said to her husband, who was muttering under his breath about Jimmessing with the scoring sheets.

"Oh yeah? From who?" Klinger set down his bowling bag.

"Margaret Pierce," answered Soon-Lee.

"Don't know her."

"She left another name--Margaret Houlihan."

Klinger dropped his bowling bag. "It can't be."

**XXX**

"Hawk, you want me to play guessing games over five thousand miles of telephone line?" B.J. Hunnicutt asked. "Okay. Inga Halvorson...no. Uh...Carlye Breslin...sorry, Hawk...yeah...I give up. Who is she?"

After Hawkeye's answer, B.J. dropped the phone in disbelief.

**XXX**

"I'll flip you for Frank," said Hawkeye as Margaret stood beside a phone booth, rummaging around in her purse for a dime.

"You can have him," Margaret said. She handed him a dime and her address book.

"Margaret, you still have his phone number?" asked Hawkeye. "Should I be concerned that my wife is having an affair?"

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Will you dial?"

Hawkeye picked up the phone and punched in Frank Burns's phone number. "It's ringing," he hissed. "Hello, Frank?...You don't recognize my voice? Ferret Face, I must say that I'm shocked...Frank, the reason I'm calling...yes...oh, congratulations." He leaned up against the phone booth's wall."Frank...Frank, will you shut up?...Thank you. The...what? Major Houlihan? Yes I've heard from her...oh, she'll love that." Hawkeye covered the mouthpiece. "He and Louise got divorced last year," he told Margaret. Turning back to the phone, the dark-haired man said, "I'm afraid you can't have Margaret back...because she's married!...Frank. Stop crying, you're sniveling right in my ear...who's she married to?" He grinned in anticipation. "To none other than her most hated enemy...no, not the Chinese Communists...Me! Me, as in Benjamin Franklin Pierce! The U.S.'s most unpatriotic soldier!...she's right here." Hawkeye handed the phone to Margaret, who hung it up.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Margaret. "Let's go."

_A/N: This is one of the longest chapters I've ever written. Should I keep them this length, or make them shorter? The longer ones take more time to write, so there might be a bigger space between updates. Drop me a review and let me know._

_That was a VERY unconcealed guise to get reviews...my, but I'm tactless today. Anyhow, I'm off to continue work on chapter 3. (It only has about 166 words to it so far. If those numbers don't show up, it's not my fault!) It goes back to 1980, where Klinger and a refrigerator have an interesting encounter. _


	3. Midnight

_**Chapter 3: Midnight**_

**1980**

"Eva. Psst. Wake up."

Eva sat up. "Whazzat?"

"It's me," Rena whispered.

"What do you want?" asked Eva.

"I thought you should know Daddy's breaking your refrigerator."

Groaning, Eva pulled her white robe on over her jeans and blue sweatshirt and took the stairs two at a time to get downstairs.

In the kitchen, Klinger was kicking the refrigerator. "Work for me, baby, Come on..."

"Do you usually beat up on kitchen appliances at midnight?" asked Eva.

Klinger jumped. "Oh, uh, this is nothing. I mean, just a little, uh, leakage."

"The little leakage is forming a lake in my kitchen," Eva said, lifting up her pant legs to keep them from dragging in the water that was dripping out of the refrigerator.

"Dad!" exclaimed Marilyn, who had been in the dining room. "What happened?"

"I can get it fixed before morning," Klinger said. "Give me a wrench and I'm a wizard. Did I ever tell you about the time I fixed our P.A. system in Korea?"

"No, but Mom did," said Eva. "I think she used the terms 'jackass' and 'olive-skinned idiot' to describe the incident."

"Wonderful woman." Klinger gave the refrigerator a final kick. "I think that you need a repairman."

"I'm going back to bed," said Eva. "I've got a horribe headache." She left the kitchen, almost running into Becky.

"Are you okay?" Becky asked.

_NO I'm not okay! _Eva screamed mentally. _Mom is gone and Dad is dead! _

_She just cares about you, that's all, _the always-logical voice retorted.

_If anyone did they'd leave me the hell alone._

_Don't use that type of language._

_I'll use whatever language I want!_

"Eva?" Becky's concerned gaze brought the woman out of her trance-like state. "Let me help you up to bed."

"No thanks. I can make it." Eva smiled at Becky and went back upstairs. She almost tripped over Carolina, who was sprawled out on the hallway carpet snoring.

Eva crawled under the covers of her parents' bed. She had absolutely no desire to get changed into a nightgown--and even if she did, it would be impossible because seven people were in her bedroom.

_Now go to sleep. You need your rest. _

"Shut up," Eva said.

For once, the voice cooperated.


	4. The Ex Major's Minor

_A/N: "Thank you, thank you, thank you" times infinity for your reviews! I have NEVER gotten this many for only three chapters! Kilikina--not sure if you have an account but I wanted to thank you._

_I am obsessed with saying thank you today. HELP!_

_**Chapter 4: The Ex-Major's Minor**_

**1960**

It was May. Margaret and Hawkeye had been married for just over three months. They lived in Maine (Crabapple Cove to be exact), and Hawkeye still worked at his hometown's clinic. Margaret, who had sold her aunt's house to a developer who was at the moment tearing it down for a Super Food Mart, was starting work at the clinic at nine A.M. on the twentieth.

It was eight-thirty.

"Hawkeye!" shouted Margaret. "Where are my red pumps?"

"How should I know?" Hawkeye shouted back from the kitchen. "You're the one that wears them."

Margaret tore down the stairs, wearing only a yellow turtleneck and a white slip. "Listen to me, buster, if I don't make a good impression no one will _ever _take me seriously. NOW WHERE ARE THE DAMN SHOES?"

"Probably in your shoe rack on the door," said Hawkeye. "Margaret, will you calm down? I can hear your heart rate from here."

"Oh, you can talk. You've known these people for all of your life! What if they think I'm not good enough for you? Oh God, I think I'm gonna be sick."

Margaret got into the bathroom just in time. Hawkeye followed her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You all right?"

"Fine." The blonde stood up and got a drink of water. She re-adjusted her hair (pulled back into a ponytail) and turned around. "Would you mind moving? I have to get dressed."

"Not in my mind you don't." Hawkeye kissed her neck.

The two were almost late for work that morning.

**XXX**

"Pierce!" shouted Nancy DeMaris. "Are you sick again?"

_Thank you SO much for broadcasting it to the immediate area, _thought Margaret bitterly as she shut the door to the restrooms, not dignifying Nancy's question with a response. Instead, she went into Hawkeye's office and laid down on his orange couch with the the multi-colored flowers.

Outside the office, Hawkeye was giving a prescription to Vern Liener when Nancy tapped his shoulder. "Doctor Pierce?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there." He finished explaining the doses to Vern (for the fifth time), and followed Nancy. "Yeah?"

"Your wife's sick again," said Nancy. "Honestly, you should take her home. You know the Cove's had a chicken pox epidemic and we don't need her infecting the children."

"All right," Hawkeye said. "Tell Bill that I'll be back in twenty minutes."

**XXX**

"I am not sick!" Margaret insisted as Hawkeye helped her out to the car.

"Oh, so you're losing yourbreakfast just for fun, then."

"Hawkeye, I'm not sick." Margaret paused."I'm pregnant."

"You're..." Hawkeye dropped his briefcase and gave her a kiss right out of a 40's movie.

"Icky!" Susie Rogerson, the daughter of Crabapple Cove's mayor,burst into giggles. "Mommy, look!"

"Let's go," Mrs. Rogerson said, taking her daughter by the hand.

"This'll be a perfect place to raise our kids," said Hawkeye. "They can go to school where I did, and we can take them to the park, and then when they get older, they can work at the clinic with you and me."

Margaret chuckled. "God forbid they'd want to move out of Maine."

"Who would want to?"

**XXX**

The news of the new Mrs. Pierce's pregancy spread throughout town like wildfire. It was mentioned in the community's "The Cove's Five Senses" column and soon made its way throughout the county.

One person in particular whom it spread to was Frank Burns.

**XXX**

_Ding-dongggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg..._

"I have to get someone to fix that doorbell,"Margaret sighed.She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and dashed to get the door.

Standing outside was Ferret Face himself.

"Margaret!" he screamed, throwing himself in the door.

"Frank, get off of me!" Margaret ordered, irritated and surprised beyond belief.

Frank obeyed. "Darling. I heard about you and Pierce."

"You should have, he called you. Now will you go away?"

"He's brainwashed you."

Margaret drew back her fist and punched Frank in the nose. "If you don't get out of here, I'm going to have you arrested for indecent behavior! Now _out_!"

"Sweetie-"

"I am not your sweetie and I never will be!"

Frank scurried out of the house, leaving Margaret wondering how he found out their address.


	5. Sheila Leigh Pierce

_**Chapter 5: Sheila Leigh Pierce**_

**1980**

Annette was reading an old issue of _Redbook _in the living room. She checked her watch as she closed the magazine.

"1:50?" she said aloud. "I have to sleep! I'm supposed to get up in six hours."

The redhead laid down on the couch, being careful not to disturb Rena, who was sleeping on the floor.

It took Annette five minutes to realize that she was wide awake and would probably stay that way for the next few hours. So she sat up and picked up a scrapbook covered in white wallpaper with sixties-style daisies on it. A few pictures flew out and the writing on the back of one caught Annette's eye.

_My three favorite girls--Margaret, Eva, & Sheila Pierce at Erin Hunnicutt's wedding, 1970_

"Sheila?" asked Annette. "Who's Sheila?"

Looking closer at the picture, she saw Eva, in a purple fluffy dress, and Margaret, wearing a red and white plaid pantsuit. But there was a girl, wearing a dress identical to Eva's. She looked a bit younger, maybe six or seven.

The inner snoop in Annette was awakened. She'd lived in London since boarding school at age ten, meaning she'd missed a lot of what had happened with the 4077th. Silenty getting off the couch, she took the scrapbook into the dining room, which was unusually empty.

On the first page, there was a picture of Hawkeye and Margaret on their wedding day. Flipping past it, Annette took a quick tour of the first few years of their marriage. She stopped when she got to 1963. There was a photo of a baby, with _Sheila Leigh Pierce, 5 lbs. 10 oz. _written in what looked like Margaret's cursive.

Curious to know more, Annette turned the page. There were some more baby pictures, plus some of Eva, who looked to be about two.

"How many times have I told you not to look at other people's things?"

Annette jumped. She looked up to see Charles leaning against the door frame.

"Daddy, you have to see this." Annette stood up and handed the picture to her father.

"Ah yes. The Pierce's perfect suburban dream. Hideous suit Margaret's wearing."

Annette rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask for your appraisal. Who's Sheila?"

Charles gulped. "Well, she's...she's a cousin, I believe."

"Oh," said Annette. "Was she close to them?"

"Quite."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"Annette, it's late."

As Annette left the dining room to find that Robby had taken over her spot on the couch, she began to think that there might be more to the Pierce family that what met the eye.

_A/N: Short chapter. I wanted to fit it in somewhere before I go back to 1960. I plan to start work on the next one as soon as my computer decides to save and post this! _


	6. The Makings of a Legend

**_Chapter 6: The Makings of a Legend_**

**1960**

It was November 2nd, and Etta Douglas, the head waitress at the Crabapple Cove Grill, was appointed to tell all the diners the good news.

"Ahem." She dusted off her palms importantly and straightened her shoulders. "I have just been informed that Margaret Pierce--Benny's charming wife--has delivered a healthy, bouncing, beautiful baby girl."

The restaurant burst into cheers.

"Mother, father, and grandfather are doing well," Etta continued over the noise. "If all goes as planned, they should be home in a week."

"Etta!" hollered Irving Cooper, an elderly man with white hair. "What's her name?"

"From what I heard from Daniel, it's between Anna Lynn or Esther Frances," answered Etta.

That sparked a heated debate about names that didn't end for an hour and a half.

**XXX**

"I don't care _what _you say, we are not naming an innocent baby Esther Frances!" Hawkeye said to his father. They were sitting in Margaret's hospital room and trying not to wake up the sleeping woman.

"In case you don't remember, your great-aunt was named Esther Frances," said Daniel.

"I remember all too well."

Daniel shook his head. "Esther Pierce. It's perfect."

"For a horror movie, yes."

"Do you two mind getting a mother's opinion on this?" asked Margaret sleepily.

"Hey, baby, you're supposed to be sleeping," Hawkeye said.

"Eva," said Margaret, ignoring her husband. "Eva Roxanne."

"Perfect!" Hawkeye exclaimed. "It's terrific. Eva Roxanne Pierce."

Daniel sighed, knowing he was out-voted. "All right, all right, all right. Eva Pierce."

"The makings of a legend," intoned Hawkeye. "Someday all this will be memorialized in a tacky book sold in a geisha house in Seoul, telling the romantic and touching story of the head nurse, chief surgeon, and their darling daughter."

Margaret groaned. "Good nitrus, sweet prince," she said, dragging up a phrase she hadn't used since 1952.

_A/N: Short, I know. BUT! I have another chapter that has four hundred-some words and will soon be updated. _


	7. Of Scrapbooks and Sleepwalking

_A/N: I'm ba-a-a-a-a-a-ack! When was the last time I updated? Too long ago. Argh. Like I've said, I am NOT ignoring you, or this, or anything. _

**_Chapter 7: Of Scrapbooks and Sleepwalking_**

**1980**

Stepping carefully over the sleeping Rena, Annette tiptoed into Eva's room. She located the scrapbooks and took a seat in the hallway, ready to stuff the books under a towel in case Eva decided to sleepwalk.

The first pictures were of Eva when she was about fifteen. She was wearing a red and black plaid shirt and tight black jeans, sitting on a brown car. Her face was lit up in a brilliant smile, and her arm was around another girl who had tanned skin and blonde hair.

Annette tapped her chin. The younger girl resembled Margaret in a way, but something was...wrong. Eva was as pale as could be and this girl looked like she'd just gotten off a plane from California.

The photo flaked off the page and into Annette's lap. She eagerly turned it over, but there was too much glue gobbed over the writing to read it (obviously the result of Eva's pasting skills). Groaning, Annette stuck it back into the book and kept flipping.

The same blonde girl was in another picture, this time wearing a pleated violet chiffon dress. She was standing in front of...

It couldn't be.

Annette pulled off her glasses and looked closer at the picture.

This girl, whoever she was, was standing by none other than _her father_.

Annette sprang to her feet and charged downstairs. "_Who is this_?" she whisper-yelled at Charles.

Charles jerked awake. "Dear, you scared me half to death." He blinked. "Who?"

"The blonde." Annette handed him the book.

"I told her it wouldn't work. I told her." Charles sighed. "But she...she didn't listen. Damn it, Margaret!" He slammed his fist on the couch.

"Dad?" asked Annette. "Who? What wouldn't work?"

"Annette, I made a--a solemn vow to Margaret."

"What was it?" Annette was perched on the edge of the couch, almost falling off with anticipation. Once again, she was reminded that her grade-school nickname of 'Miss Holmes' was still alive and well.

"NO! PLEASE..."

"What was that?" gasped Annette, leaping off the couch. "It sounds like..."

"That's Eva," Erin said. She slowly opened her eyes. "Let's go get her."

The two women went up the stairs and almost ran straight into Eva. She was standing at the top of the first landing, her eyes glazed over and a pen clutched in her hand like a dagger.

Erin sighed. "She's sleepwalking. Eva? Sweetie, wake up."

Eva's body jerked. "Oh, it's you." She grinned tightly. "I was just reliving the time I read the part of Lady Macbeth in tenth grade."

"Maybe you'd better go back to sleep," Annette advised.

"Yeah," said Eva, blinking slowly. "See you tomorrow."

"Or five A.M., whichever comes first," Erin said.

Eva went back to bed and Annette and Erin walked back downstairs.

"Hey, what's that?" Erin's gaze had landed on the daisy-covered scrapbook.

Annette furrowed her eyebrows. "At the moment, I have no idea."


	8. The First Crack

**_Chapter 8: The First Crack_**

**1961**

"DAMN IT, PIERCE, GET UP HERE AND HELP ME WITH THE LUGGAGE!"

"That, my darling daughter, is the sound of Hurricane Margaret," Hawkeye said to Eva.

Eva looked up at him and gurgled.

Deciding he should leave it at that, Hawkeye set her down and went up the steps. "Coming, wife of the strong vocal chords," he called.

Margaret huffed in annoyance as she dropped a black and orange plaid suitcase on the hallway floor. "My sister is expecting us to get to her house by dinner! Now MOVE your lazy behind and HELP ME CARRY THE SUITCASES!"

"Look, baby-"

"Don't 'look baby' me. Albany is at least a five hour drive from here and we're--don't just stand there! GO!"

**XXX**

The Pierces were lost.

"I think your sister gave us directions to Holland," said Hawkeye.

"Don't be an idiot," Margaret replied. "Turn left up here."

"Where?"

Margaret sighed as the car sped past McLevand Road. "Back there."

"It's no big deal. Everybody knows that all roads end up in the same place."

**XXX**

Lillian Wilver paced anxiously across the hardwood floors of her apartment. "Ted!" she shouted. "Have you seen them yet?"

"No, dear. Shall I ask Louis if I can borrow his binoculars?"

She shook her head. "I doubt if he would let you. You know how seven-year olds can be so protective of their things."

"I was kidding."

Margaret's sister pressed her nose to the picture window. "I think--yes, that's them! I would know Ben's monstrous blue car anywhere."

"I hope they can find a parking space. Rumor has it that the drivers are particularly vicious this time of year."

"Who's here?" Louis, Ted and Lillian's son, dashed out of his room. "Do I know them? Do they know me? Do they like me?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," said Lillian. "You know Aunt Margaret and Uncle Benjamin, don't you?"

"I think."

"That's them. And you're going to get to meet your darling little cousin Eva."

"Is that a boy?"

"No."

"Oh. Then I don't like her."

Lillian shook her head as she pulled on her burgundy coat and shoved the door open. She ran down the short flight of stairs and flung open the door. "Margaret!" she shouted.

The blonde growled as she stomped out of the car. "Never again," she proclaimed, "will I ride in a car with that man. Ever!"

"It's a long walk home," said Hawkeye.

"Did you have a nice drive here?" asked Lillian.

"No," snapped Hawkeye and Margaret in unison.

Lillian's eyes widened and she wondered what, exactly, she was going to do with the couple for the next three days.

Back in the apartment, Ted was watching his wife greet her sister and brother-in-law while Louis zoomed his toy firetruck around the living room. He dreaded the arrival of Margaret. Ever since he and Lillian had gotten married, the two had gotten into disagreements.

"Although," he said thoughtfully, "the person who can't get into a disagreement with Margaret Houlihan is rare. She must have found someone quite special that can handle her."

"ME? It was YOU who forgot the map, you idiot, NOT me!"

"All right, you can drive next time. Happy?"

"Next time? There will not BE a next time."

The door opened, and in stormed Margaret, who was carrying Eva, with Lillian behind her. Hawkeye dropped the suitcases on the floor.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," chirped Lillian. "You remember my husband Ted, and our son Louis, don't you?"

Margaret nodded. She rolled her neck. "I think I'm going to pass on dinner and take a nap."

"Of course. Your bedroom's down the hall and to the left."

"Thank you."

"I think I'll take a walk," said Hawkeye, who hadn't even entered the apartment yet

He left, leaving Lillian and Ted exchanging curious glances.

**XXX**

The trip would go down in the history books of the Pierce-Houlihan relationship as the first fight.

The first rift.

The first crack.

_The first crack_, Margaret thought as she laid awake next to her husband that night, _that is going to lead to more_.

_A/N: I am SO sorry that I haven't updated this! My muse must have taken a long vacation to the Bahamas and just returned today. However...it's back, which means that I'll be continuing this in a (hopefully) timely fashion. _


	9. Oh, What A Volatile Morning

_**Chapter 9: Oh, What A Volatile Morning**_

**1980**

"I want to know. I need to know. I demand to know." Annette sighed. "None of that sounds convincing enough."

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. "Why'd you let them send you away to school? All you got from London was a better understanding of Shakespeare, a couple musicals, and a quasi-accent."

There was a sharp knock on the door. "Whoever's in there, get out," a voice ordered.

Annette pushed the door open. "Sorry, Kathy."

"Are you okay?" The brunette's eyes reflected concern. "You've been in there for over half an hour."

She considered telling her. She and Kathy had never really gotten along that well, more from lack of contact than personality conflicts, but at the rate she was going (no sleep, burned toast, weak coffee), she could use a confidante.

"Here's the thing," Annette said slowly. "Actually, wait a minute." She pulled Kathy into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the tap. "That's better."

"Huh?"

"That's better," she repeated. "Read my lips."

"_What_?"

Annette shut off the water. "You're never gonna be James Bond's right-hand woman."

"What's so important that you have to tell me in total secrecy?" asked Kathy.

"Last night," began Annette, "I was looking through an old scrapbook when I found a bunch of pictures of this blonde girl named Sheila with Eva. And Dad won't tell me who she is, even though he seems to know all too well. He was talking about a 'solemn vow' and…I don't know. It's just odd, you know? Eva's never mentioned her before."

Kathy looked unimpressed. "How many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

"Probably one."

"That explains why you're making such a big deal out of nothing."

"I'll show you the pictures."

"You don't have to. Annette, you've always made things out to be bigger than they are. This Sheila person's probably a friend, or some distant relative."

"Does your family keep _baby pictures _of a friend or a distant relative? 'My three favorite girls.' That's what the caption said.. Margaret, Eva, and Sheila. What's that all about?"

Kathy shook her head. "You shouldn't go poking around in this stuff. It's disrespectful to the Pierces. Now I need to take a shower, so if you'll leave…"

As Annette shut the bathroom door behind her, she was reminded why she never spent much time with Kathy.

She didn't have an adventurous spirit.

**XXX**

"Eva?" Erin stuck her head into the bedroom. "How're you doing?"

She looked up blearily. "Good. Tired. The eulogy's almost a page long. I've been working on it since six-thirty."

"Mom and I were going to start breakfast since Annette didn't fare so well. Anything you want?"

"I eat whatever."

Erin nodded. "I'll see you later, then."

In truth, Eva wasn't _good_. She was defeated and slightly afraid. She'd sleepwalked in a house full of people. Friends.

It had been a long time since she'd had the insanity dreams. The last time was right before junior prom. Margaret had grabbed her before she managed to wrench the window open, and it was an unspoken ritual from then on that someone would check the windows every night to make sure they were locked.

"I'm going nuts," Eva said aloud. "I'm not the first one in the family to do it, and I won't be the last."

And for what felt like the eightieth time that week, she picked up the piece of yellow stationary that she'd tucked into the ever-present (yet never-read) Bible on the desk. She unfolded it and read it, trying to see the person behind the words.

_Dear Eva_

_In short: _

_Yes, I heard about Hawkeye. Yes, I'm distraught, but I'm probably not as distraught as you. As to the question of whether or not I'm coming, I don't know._

_This is almost funny, in a sick sort of way. Our first correspondence for over two years and it's for a funeral invitation. I'd laugh but, as you know, laughing at seemingly nothing doesn't attract the type of attention you'd want to attract._

_See you (maybe) in Maine._

**XXX**

Breakfast was a madhouse. A very sticky, very buttery, _very_ syrupy madhouse.

"Who decided to serve pancakes?" Becky asked the kitchen staff.

"They're fast," said Erin.

"They're also all over the dining room."

"Be glad everyone isn't here," said Peg.

"_Yeah_," scoffed Erin. "Dad, Klinger, Father Mulchay, and Charles all wimped out and went to the diner. They'll pay. They can scrub."

"Speaking of scrubbing, what's with all the water on the floor?" questioned Lucas.

Marilyn rolled her eyes at her younger brother. "Ask Dad."

Annette burst into the kitchen. "I can't take it anymore," she declared. "Does _anyone _know who the hell Sheila Leigh Pierce is?"

"Eva's sister."

The kitchen fell into dead silence.

"Uh-oh." Erin's hand flew to her mouth. "Was I not supposed to say that?"

Annette shook her head. "Where is she, then? And how come Eva's never talked about her? And what does my father have to do with her?"

Erin looked expectantly at Peg, who shrugged. "You might as well tell her," she said.

"Okay," said Erin. "Sheila was born two years after Eva, and from what I've gathered, her arrival wasn't' as…celebrated. Margaret and Hawkeye were in a hard spot in their marriage and--"

"It's rude to talk about one's parents without inviting their child."

Erin whirled around.

"One of them, anyway," corrected Eva from the doorway. "Although you seem to know quite a lot about the other one."

"Eva--"

"I'm going for a walk."

She left the kitchen's occupants to look at each other, chastised.

_A/N: Hey, all! Yes, it's really me, back from the abyss of nothingness. Don't flog me, please. See? A chapter? And I promise that there will be more!! I sat down to write this this morning, and suddenly got a flood of ideas. So never fear…the author is (hopefully) here. _

_Oh yeah, and when I uploaded this, it was all underlined. What's up with that?_


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